


Where You Find Your Home

by TheShipSailsItself



Series: Will They, Won't They (Ever Be Finished) [2]
Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipSailsItself/pseuds/TheShipSailsItself
Summary: "Someone's been sleeping in my bed andshe's still there!"





	1. Diminished Quality of Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no rest to be found in this place. Not tonight, anyway.

Harry swings his legs down from the leather couch he had once again fallen asleep on. He rises to his feet and feels a wave of self-disgust as he realizes that once again he has failed to remove his suit for sleep clothes. A grimace passes over Harry’s face as he feels the fabric of his dress shirt clinging damply to the small of his back. Beneath his sock-clad heel Harry feels something small and hard. A flat disc that is unmistakably a button, most likely torn free of his waistcoat from his thrashing about, glints faintly on the dense pile of his area rug. Harry can feel a rising tide of frustration coupled with exhaustion threatening to crash over him.

Harry concentrates on the heaviness in his chest and blows out several deep breaths. It has been slow going but over the past year Harry has become more and more proficient at banishing the fog of his nightmares. The nightmares still plague him but once he wakes and does his meditations he finds that even if sleep will not come to him for the rest of the night he can at the very least turn his thoughts to more productive things like his duties as a Whitelighter or even those of his role as a department chair.

But tonight the ragged remnants of his dreams refuse to be so easily buried. Finally exchanging his soiled suit for fresh nightclothes Harry gives sleep one more try but without any results. After just a few minutes in his bed he finds his mind swirling with a mix of tainted memories and guilt and shame. He shoves himself from under the dark bedding and finds himself pacing the length of his condo. He goes first to his stack of ungraded papers from the university and then to his books on magical history and common spells but can find no comfort in his beloved tomes tonight. Instead his restlessness only seems to grow. As he makes his way to the table with his university work for the third time it strikes him how much he has grown to despise the quietness of his condo.

Then an idea bubbles slowly upward into Harry’s thoughts. His hand sifts through the pile of papers until he finds his work laptop. He pulls it free of the scattered sheets along with the small headphones still attached. And just as the last sheet falls away Harry Greenwood disappears.


	2. Spontaneous, Unintentional Orbing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, now you're here. What are you going to do about it, Harry?

Orbing requires focus and conviction. When orbing a Whitelighter must focus all of their attention on where they wish to be and must with absolute conviction decide that they want to be at their chosen destination and hold an unshakable belief that they _will_ find themselves at there. So with that knowledge Harry finds himself utterly bewildered and almost offended by his sudden, inexplicable presence in the Charmed Ones’ attic.

It had barely been a thought. Gone, he’d thought, so quickly it could hardly have been said to flit through his mind.

- _home_ -

Though it must have been enough, because here he is with laptop clutched in hand and standing in front of his favorite window seat. Drawing in a slow deep breath Harry closes his eyes and blows out a resigned breath. He stands there for a moment or two more with head bowed and shoulders slumping as he contemplates what to do next.

 _Since I’m here anyways_ , Harry thinks to himself adjusting his grip on his laptop. He cracks open the laptop just enough to engage the screen and glances down waiting for the screen to wake and show him the status of his battery. _Sixty-two percent, not terrible._ At sixty-two percent he could conceivably watch two maybe even three episodes before the battery died. But no, that would be too much. It wouldn’t be right to stay too long having not been invited or summoned.

 ** _It wouldn’t be right to ssssssstay at all_** , whispers a voice inside him that sounds disturbingly like the Tartarus drake. **_Not your family. You have no family. No wife, no child, not even a lover… You don’t be-_**

Harry gives a violent shake of his head and forcibly turns his thoughts back to his predicament.

 _I’ll only stay for just one episode. They needn’t even know I was there. Just a few moments of peace. I just… I want.… I’ll just stay a little while and then go h-_ his mind stutters at the thought of his empty condo and the heavy silence that awaited him there, _-back. Just one episode and then I’ll go back._

His mind sufficiently made up, Harry turns away from the window and steps quietly through the dark attic. Harry can already feel himself relaxing as he makes his way to his sofa just beyond the cluster of mismatched end tables. He can practically feel the worn-in bounce of the sofa’s cushion and the soft yet solid weight of the afghan the sisters had deemed Harry’s and Harry’s alone during his weeks of recuperating in this very attic. But as he reaches the sofa he begins to wonder if his sleep deprived eyes are playing tricks on him as there seems to already be someone sleeping on his sofa. Harry steps closer, careful to make his steps as silent as possible, when the figure half-wrapped in what is undoubtedly his blanket shifts.

He would know the curve of that cheek and the deep and dusky coral bow of her lips even in the faintest of moonlight.


	3. Slumbering Moonlit Figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...and there she is."

Somewhere high above the house a large fleet of clouds passes in front of the moon carving up the beams pouring weakly into the attic. For a moment Macy’s slumbering form is obscured in shadow. But the open laptop in front of her on the coffee table gives off a dull gleam. He wonders if she had had the same idea. A little late night indulgence in her favorite program? Harry can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips any more than he can stop the warmth that seems to be spreading through his chest. If he had happened by sooner perhaps they could have indulged together. His overtired mind offers him a gauzy fantasy of her at his side, her warmth seeping through their clothes and the sound of her silk rustling against his cotton as she winds her arms around his waist. He can almost feel the press of her cheek into his shoulder and hear her delight in her voice as she ~~lovingly~~ scolds him for mocking the terrible dialogue.

Just then the clouds break apart and the night sky clears. The sudden flood of moonlight brings with it a wash of shame that douses Harry’s far too unrestrained fantasy. He really must go. He has taken this too far. Despite whatever might have brought him here, whatever excuses and rationalizations Harry might have fabricated to stay up to this point, it is well past the proper time for him to leave.

Harry sees a shiver run through her and whether he orbs to her side or actually uses his feet he doesn’t know for sure. Regardless, he finds himself standing next to her, pulling his- her blanket from off her legs and up to her shoulders. His sense of propriety stops Harry from brushing a stray curl from her cheek but the slight parting of her lips as she draws in a breath tugs at… something. Something Harry’s been trying to quietly bury from nearly the first moment they met here in this very attic.

The voice of his doubts and his sense of place in the world is whispering to him again, _**she didn’t call your name. You weren’t summoned. What do you think you are doing here, Whitelighter?**_ Harry steps back. He’s not meant to be seeing her like this in so vulnerable a state. Not without her permission. _**This isn’t your place.**_

Harry turns away, intending to cross back to the far end of the attic. From there he can try to orb out as quietly as possible. But it’s almost like the manor itself is conspiring with his suddenly misfiring powers to give his presence away. A loose floorboard creaks impossibly loud underfoot and Harry freezes. Behind him he hears Macy’s voice, quiet and cloudy with sleep. He throws a panicked look towards the sofa.

“Harry?”


	4. How to Explain

“Harry? Is that you? Please tell me that’s you.”

He winces and curses, mostly at himself.

Harry turns around and finds Macy pushing herself into a sitting position, his blanket sliding off her shoulder to pool in her lap. Just out of sight something on a nearby shelf rattles threateningly no doubt readying to be flung at him.

“Ah, yes. Macy. Good evening,” he says quickly, straightening his spine as much as his stiff back will let him and steps into a pool of moonlight to show himself to his charge. Harry makes a slight bow and smoothing down his shirt as if he wasn’t standing pyjama-clad and barefoot clutching a laptop in the middle of her attic at two in the morning. This whole situation is farcical and as tired as he is he knows it. Still his mind turns sluggishly in circles reaching for some sort of excuse for his presence but finds absolutely nothing. Instead he simply freezes and stares dumbly at his charge, his fatigued brain overcome by how soft she looks so recently roused from sleep, her drowsy eyes drawing him closer when he knows he should be maintaining his distance. His gaze lingers on her lips rounder, fuller with rest and turned down in a frown?

“Harry, is everything alright? Are _you_ alright? Is something going on? _Harry_.”

Macy's voice is rising in pitch and with a jolt Harry realizes his wordless staring has begun to truly worry her. She’s moving to push the blanket off altogether and he goes quickly to take a seat beside her. He drops his laptop on the table next to hers and it settles with a clatter he barely registers, too focused on pulling up the afghan and tucking it back around her hips. Head ducked down he lets a rush of reassurances tumble out of his mouth. His words are apologetic, barely sensible and the flow of which only stops when Macy lays her hands, warm and dry, on his. His fingers still their nervous picking and fluttering over the edges of the blanket and Harry finds himself unable to resist turning his hands to clasp and twine with hers. Macy Vaughn in her strong yet gentle and genteel entirety is a comfort he struggles and so often fails to deny himself and it shames him. _She deserves so much better than this, than me._

Macy calls his name again, softly, gently and finally he finds himself able to meet her eyes.


	5. Interlude - Macy, The Evening Before

He looks up at her and she sees exhaustion etched so deeply into his handsome face. The moonlight deepening the already worryingly dark shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t looked this bad when she had dropped him off at his condo.

Or had he? 

Dammit, she knew that she’d been making a mistake earlier. Macy sighted inwardly. Well, it wasn’t one she was going to make a second time tonight.

———

The hunt and subsequent vanquishing the evening before had gone so much longer than any of them had expected. Once they had dragged themselves home Macy and Mel had called out for delivery, firmly quashing their Whitelighter’s insistence that he could still manage a quick dinner. The food arrived and was eaten in relative quiet.

Once the cartons and dishes had been dealt with and the dining room tidied up Harry had congratulated them on a yet another successful vanquishing and declared it time for him to head home. Macy had to bite her lip to keep blurting out, “ _Dammit Harry, this **is** your home_.” But nobody had the energy for that argument just then. Maggie, however, had suggested that he could take the attic sofa for the night. Harry politely declined, citing a need to finish a bit of grading and other apparently pressing department work he had left at his condo. Macy had also wanted to push for him staying but… He really did look like he needed a good night’s rest, something Macy couldn’t see that happening on the ancient couch in their drafty attic. As much as she hated the idea of him being all alone, in his admittedly posh, little condo, at least it had an actual bed.

“It’s Friday night, Harry. And you’re just as beat as we are,” Macy kept her voice gentle as she took the plastic-wrapped utensils Harry had started fiddling with out of his hands. “C’mon, I’ll drive you back to the condo if that's where you really want to go.”

“Drive me?" Even with her back now turned Macy could practically see his nose turning up at the suggestion. "Macy, really. When I can just-”

“She’s gonna drive you, Harry,” Mel said firmly, cutting him off. “I- _We_ don’t need to be picking you up from Detroit or trying to find you in the middle of some national park because of your ‘stiff upper lip’. You got that, old man? She's driving you.”

Macy looked over from the front door where she was gathering her coat and keys. Mel had Harry's hand covered with her own, effectively stopping him from clicking his fingers. Not that he even needed to if he really was that dead set on orbing. But the point was made. Mel was giving the Whitelighter a pretty significant look that practically dared him to fight with her. Macy stifled a laugh when she saw Harry roll his eyes and lower his hand. _Smart man._

“Oh, very well,” he had huffed out and began heading towards the foyer. At that Macy did let out a snort of laughter that she quickly covered with a cough. God, the man was cute when he pouted.

By the time Harry joined her at the door Macy was holding out his coat for him to slip into. He gave her a less than amused look but a grinning Macy simply shook the coat and waited. With yet another put-upon sigh he turned and slipped his arms in obediently. Macy looked at her sisters and they all shared a round of triumphant snickers, Maggie looking like she was just seconds away from doubling over with outright laughter.

Macy brushed her hands over a stretch of fabric near his waist, wanting to smooth out a wrinkle that had caught her eye. But at the sound of a small, sharp intake of breath and the faintest feel of a shiver running under her palms Macy snatched her hands back, her own heart pounding with embarrassment.

“Okay, let’s go,” Macy choked out before heading out the door and letting the crisp night air cool (and hide) her heated face.

—

The drive across town had been a quiet one, if a bit longer than usual. Macy had decided on taking a more roundabout route in favor of avoiding the raucous and packed club and bar district that they would have normally passed through.

At a couple of the stoplights Macy had taken the opportunity to look over at her dozing passenger. He really did look worn out. She frowned. Way more than she would have expected even with all the running and orbing they’d just done on their hunt. She almost considered turning around but reminded herself for the umpteenth time about their lack of sufficient beds. That really was something she and her sisters needed to fix a.s.a.p. They couldn't keep sending Harry home in this state. Not after all he did for them everyday. It wasn't fair. A plan started for formulate in Macy's head but was cut short when she realized they had arrived.

Macy pulled her car up to Harry’s building and stopped directly in front of the portico. She could see Maris, the front desk attendant, through the large glass windows. Macy gave her a friendly wave before turning to her now softly snoring passenger.

“ _Harry_ ,” Macy called to him in a whisper. His head lolled to the other side of his headrest and he half-hummed in response but otherwise didn’t seem to be really waking up.

She called his name again, informing him they had reached their destination. This time she punctuated her words with a firm shake of his arm. Still nothing. Macy took a deep breath and reached for his hand bracing herself against the rush that always accompany the feel of his skin against hers. It was such a schoolgirl reaction, as embarrassing as it was thrilling. But desperate measures, she supposed. She curled her fingers around his lax hand and gave a small squeeze.

“Harry, we’re here.”

At that he practically started awake.

“Macy? Where…?”

Macy tightened her grip. “Harry, it’s alright. We’re at your building.”

“Ah.” Macy watched his face as he looked up at the looming edifice of glass and concrete. Her heart twisted at his expression, one of drooping resignation. This wasn’t where he wanted to be no matter what he’d said back at the house.

“We can go back, Harry. You can come back and stay with us," she offered once more, her eyes on the hand still covering his. "I can- I can take the attic for tonight.” She watched intently as his hand turned to clasp hers properly. When she gathered enough courage to look up he was shaking his head, a fond if somewhat melancholy smile curving his lips.

“I’ll be there soon enough." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "How else will any of you manage breakfast?”

“Harry-” Oh god, he looked so _alone_. She shouldn’t be letting him go. He slid his hand from hers and she... let him go. “Okay. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Macy.”

And with that Harry slipped out of her car and made his way into his building.

———

  
A mistake. That's what that had been. A big, flipping mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to correct an embarrassing number of typos. Okay, I also added a few adjectives here and there. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> The lesson here, kids, is to put the pen down and sleep on your writing before posting to avoid most regrets. Also, proofreading on no sleep is pretty much not actual proofreading. That's just looking at gobbledygook and going LOOKS FINE TO ME. (it was not in fact 'fine')


End file.
